| On the night all mirrors fell silent
|
| And the clocks struck accord with the rain
|
| A storm swept in with such violence
|
| The dead rose to complain
|
| The stars were ill-crossed as the weather
|
| Lost in its bitumen cloak
|
| The Angels were warring, slick with endeavour
|
| Falling like tears through the thickening smoke
|
| Blood redeems, heaven torn asunder
|
| A flood of souls scream on the rolling thunder
|
| Blood redeems, heaven torn asunder
|
| She stirs from dreams barely three feet under
|
| «Victoria, I come to claim my prize
|
| Stealing from the convent neath the wrath of seething skies
|
| For though you greased the palm of Satan
|
| With those moonlit silver thighs
|
| I knew the beast took second place
|
| When I looked into your eyes
|
| Your deceiving eyes
|
| Filled with lies
|
| And missed good byes
|
| And serpents hissing revelations
|
| Your deceiving eyes
|
| They tell enough
|
| Of how I fell in love
|
| With the goddess creeping deep inside you"
|
| And with the tumult up above him roaring
|
| Isaac sought her shallow grave
|
| As lightning bolted through the grim down-pouring rain
|
| He struck the hallowed earth again
|
| Having torn at the soil like a man insane
|
| threw his fists at the poisonous cosmos
|
| And from that pit of shame
|
| He bore the coffin from her sorry lot
|
| Neath trees whose eaves were knotted with rot
|
| Through ornate chapel doors, unlocked
|
| To splinter her sarcophagus
|
| And gaze upon her face
|
| Victoria…
|
| «Victoria, I come to claim my prize
|
| Stealing from the convent neath the wrath of seething skies
|
| For though you greased the palm of Satan
|
| With those moonlit silver thighs
|
| Making mockery of rosaries
|
| His needs will never rival mine
|
| I recall a summer’s day
|
| The sunlight bathed your penitential scars
|
| As I sat and washed the blood away
|
| Now your body stays
|
| And the coldness of your lips
|
| Eclipse
|
| Like the first true kiss of winter"
|
| Pining for the dead
|
| On the stone floor spread
|
| She was shining through her winding shroud
|
| A moon amid the mad, this son of Adam had
|
| A gift for the pretty young nun
|
| A necklace wrought of twining snakes
|
| Two gold illicit tongues
|
| He laid it at her throat
|
| Where the rope had wrung
|
| He was burning from the furnace
|
| Of his roused desire
|
| He wrested with temptation
|
| To be or unfulfilled
|
| She was undressed for ovation
|
| Her sumptuous form, the storm revealed
|
| And with his driven lust exploding
|
| Her lashes brushed his cheeks
|
| They flickered with life, her limbs enfolding
|
| Purring, licking wicked teeth
|
| «Victoria, I come to claim my prize
|
| Stealing from the convent neath the wrath of seething skies
|
| For though you greased the palm of Satan
|
| With those moonlit silver thighs
|
| You have left him just for me
|
| I see it in deceiving eyes
|
| Those deceiving eyes
|
| Filled with lies
|
| And missed good byes
|
| And serpents hissing revelations
|
| Those deceiving eyes
|
| They tell enough
|
| Of how I fell in love
|
| With the goddess re-arisen in you" |